Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1887-07-08
THE COLONIES GIFT.

| LIZ OOLO ~ NlI L.
sGive my consent to your engagement
with Arthur Daunt, child? Preposterousl
Why, neither of you have been long out of
the nursery.'
81 am IS, and Arthur is %, grandpapa. :"
''Twenty-two" contemptuously; "a
boy! No man should marry until he is 80
But run away, dear, I am busy"
The "Conol," as the villagers called
him, sat at his table engaged with ''un-
paid' official business. He dipped hispen
in the ink, and the fair pleader felt herself
dismissed.
Soldier - Col Dormant's experiences
were of the barrack, the camp, canton
ments, years of service in India, military
| post in London. 1t was red letter day
| for him when he was appraised by Lon
don firm of solicitors that by the will of
his godfather he had succeeded to West
fields. The intelligence came as surprise
to him; no promise had been given, no
hint ever thrown out. He had not seen
| Westfields for years, he felt that he had
neglected the old squire. The colonel was
| not long making up his mind. No more
routine, he would rest; balmy country air
| WOllltl NC UGuGHClttl W Ulc ClGIuD liz Ollly
seemed to live for.
In short twelvemonths the rural quie
tude of Westfields began to pail. He had
nothing to do. Hunting, shooting occu-
pied only portion of the year, and these
| pursuits tired him. Some one had per-
ception-there came the suggestion. The
colonel humm'd and had, but it gave
him pleasure. He had offhand careless
ness-it was an honor, certainly. Yes,
| he would give some portion of his time to
| the administration of justice. He be-
came interested, zest followed. What
was worth doing, was worth doing well.
| Assiduous in attendance, he became as
f., well versed in petty seasonal as in mill
tary matters. In the army he had been
considered a martinez; on the bench,
| ''steern'' man was the verdict passed
| upon him.
A fine old man, tall and commanding,
| straight as a dart, though he had reached
| the allotted span of life His hair silver,
| his aspect martial, the heavy cropped
| mustache adding to the severity of his
| countenance.
The colonel ceased writing. He be-
| came distracted. He laid down his pen
and marched to the window. He looked
| out, but it was doubtful whether he saw
Again the demand 1t had come upon
him once before. He could not by
| any stretch Of complaisance delude himself
| into an opinion that the marriage had been
satisfactory. The husband might have
| been better than lie was. Flighty, i'm
| pulsive, too fond of dubious relaxation,
the young husband had needed the word
| in season and had taken remonStrance i'll.
| The colonel had almost reliet when the
regiment was ordered for foreign service,
though it placed the wide sea between
| him and his darling. He was never to see
| her again. Oceana-true child of the
| foam, atom of life to be fostered by aliens,
to live through buffetings, to accept with
| out murnlur, and as if quite natural, the
passing from hand to hand, until,
orphaned she found herself under the
roof of a taciturn, but doting grand
| parent How the child became part of his
being, until he began to apprehend the
wrench it would be to part with her, and
| to dread the appearance Of the wooer who
| would seek to deprive him of his treasure.
The tolonels soliloquy was almost au-
| dible. "He shall not marry her. She can
afford to wait year or two. Time will
| prove him, and she will be in a better
position to judge. She shall see a little
more of the world. There's her fathers
| kin, they have expressed a wish to see
more of her. They are in the world If
she goes among them, she will see some
! thing of society, be presented"
| 1t was what he did not like, sending her
among them. He had an uneasy jealous
| feeling, what if over her they were to
| exercise some subtle influence, and her
undivided affection be no longer his. I'm
| divided? Matters could not be more irri-
| tating than they were.
The colonel returned to his table, took
| up his pen and, after a vicious prod in the
| ink well, resumed his task.
A tap, and the library door again
opened. Oceana again presenting herself
| the scratch of the colonel's pen became
| more vigorous
'You are busy yet, grandpapa?" There
was disappointment.
The pen was stayed.
"What is it, Oceana?' The colonel laid
down his pen to wheel round his chair.
s'The post has just brought me note
| from Arthur
F'Well?' The tone was not unkind but
unencouraging. The colonel foresaw that
the unwelcome argument was to be re-
suned
The young girl advanced; approaching
the old man. she sank on her knees before
him. There was appeal in her eyes-im-
ploration.
''Grandpapa, Arthur will be here this
afternoon. He will wish to speak to you.
You will not be out of the way; you will
receive him?'
eff you wish it, certainly
'sGrandpapa, he wishes to ask your con-
sent to our engagement-our MARRIAGE
IT can only say to him what have said
to you. Too young, too young. Marriage
is a serious matter, not to be lightly I'M
dertaken. What safeguard is there? He
may not have sown his wild oats"-
"He may never begin to SOW them if he
| marries."
The colonel almost frowned. He was
not in the mood to be amused with
equivoque.
81 am glad you have advised me;
shall have time to ponder over my an
swer.'
''But you will not refuse?"
''My dear, I must think for you. I
must be guided by what 1 judge will be
best your future welfare"
The girl arose from her knees, to stand
at the mantel, to toy with bronze Indian
idol. She was wounded.
The old mans eyes rested upon her
with an intensity of love and admiration.
She was beautifu1-her face was classic,
her arm was model for a sculptor. No,
he did not wish to torture her; but to
part with her-would life, so desolate, so
solitary, be worth living?
s'Ocy, is it that you are tired of living
with an old man?'
s'No, grandpapa," she answered him,
quickly, with tremulous lip and with an
earnestness that was almost reproach.
s'Whatis it then?' he asked her, need
lessly.
II like Arthur, very much" she fall
tered
s'I4ike him?''
81 love Arthur, grandpapa, T" her voice